Ties that Bind
by Confused Confusion
Summary: A drabble project that delves into the relationships between the four original survivors. Family oriented, not romantic; however, there will be a bit of fluff. Update: Eternal Guardian. Bill helps Zoey overcome a nightmare.
1. The Lion and the Mouse

**Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, Valve does. **

**Author's Note: I will be shifting the Primary/Secondary Characters to whichever two survivors the current chapter is focused on.**

* * *

Ties that Bind

By: Confused Confusion

-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-

* * *

The Lion and the Mouse

****

Character Focus: Francis and Zoey

* * *

Francis dropped his pack on the floor with a grunt, not caring to move it from the middle of the room. Bill shot an annoyed glance at the back of his shaven head, but the glare went unnoticed by the biker. The room became filled with an uncharacteristic silence as the survivors moved to various spots in the large area. The uncanny stillness wasn't brought on by the fear of swarming Infected, but rather, it was caused by the weight of their situation. The stress and anxiety that had been mounting for nearly three weeks had finally reached their zeniths and the _very_ probable reality gnawed at the back of each and every survivor's mind…

_They may not make it out alive._

They had endured many things in their short time together, but none of them compared to what they realized yesterday. Riverside, the rumored town that the military was fortifying to fend off the infection, had fallen. The survivors' hopes had rested with the safe haven, only to discover that the virus had slipped in and tore the place apart. The townspeople, who had fenced themselves in, were reduced to nothing more than caged animals, unable to free themselves. Here they sat, on the second floor of a two-story building in the middle of said zombie-infested town, unsure of what to do or where to go. Looping messages over the radio suggested a variety of areas, but signs, posters, and graffiti had all voided such places. They had nowhere to go, nowhere to run, and before long…they would have nowhere to hide.

Things had changed, they were alone…the military had abandoned them…

Bill sat at the cheap, wooden table, his taxed eyes skimming over the scribble-covered map that he had pilfered off of the chopper pilot's corpse. The veteran desperately sought out something, _anything_ that could point them in the direction of another safe zone. Louis had curled up into his sleeping bag as soon as Bill had confirmed that they would be holding out for a few hours before continuing onward to, well, wherever the hell it was they were going. No one could really blame him though; having the air driven from your lungs while staring into the eyes of the Smoker responsible would affect anyone.

Zoey had yet to say a word since their encounter with the hordes of Infected on Main Street, choosing to silently sit outside on the covered balcony. Bill had begun to voice his protest against her actions, knowing full well that where she sat put her in a _very _vulnerable position to any roaming Smokers or Hunters. Upon seeing the hollow look in her eyes, however, the spry old man decided against it. The ex-Green Beret was never good at comforting women, that much he was willing to admit. Most of his life had been devoted to training, killing, serving his country, and drunkenly easing his troubles in the aftermath. For Bill, there had simply been no time for emotions.

Francis had plopped down onto a folding chair against the far wall, a bucket of bullets at his feet and shotgun in hand. Methodically and almost mechanically, the biker popped new shells into the worn pump shotgun while he allowed his gaze to sweep to and fro over his companions. Bill was still staring a hole through that damn map and Louis looked to be out for the count. Stony brown eyes finally fell on Zoey's passive and still form. From his angle, Francis could see the side of her face as the brunette held out her hand, numbly catching water droplets from the light rain that still assaulted the forsaken town.

_She won't make it._

The large man allowed the grim thought to run through his mind. Zoey was only nineteen, still a child in his eyes, but when in the middle of a sea of Infected, she disconnected herself, donning the emotionless, distant mask she had worn when entering the room. The look made her appear years older than she was, years older than she _should_ be, and it unsettled Francis to some degree. Although now, unbeknownst to his stare, the brunette looked years younger, like a lost child. The more he thought about it, the more the biker found himself hating the idea.

Nineteen…she hadn't even gotten a taste of the real world before shit hit the fan, and she knew it. The mask was just a desperate bide to stay on their level, to not fall behind…to not be _left_ behind. She would never reach their level though; rather, she would never _stoop_ to their level. Francis supposed that it was a good thing; God only knows that she wouldn't be able to handle it…mentally at least. After all, she was traveling with a Vietnam War veteran, who had learned to kill even women and children on command, a biker who had seen his fair share of deaths and had served time behind bars because of it, and a businessman who visited the gun range at least once a week.

The tattooed survivor didn't give a shit what Louis said or came up with to defend himself, the man despised his workplace, was forced into a cubicle day in and day out, and was relatively handy with a gun. Whether the dark-skinned man admitted it or not, if the infection hadn't struck, he would've gone to the office with gun in tow…it was only a matter of time. Francis supposed that was for the best too, after all, had the infection hit afterwards, and they came across an uninfected, unstable Louis, he'd probably pop a shell into his face anyway to protect the others. Fortunately, the tie-wearing survivor still had his humanity and was a trustworthy guy, albeit somewhat skittish.

Francis allowed his attention to turn back to Zoey, who still had not moved from her spot. _If_ she made it through this, the brunette still had a shot at living a semi-normal life. Again, the nagging feeling chewed on his brain, the sense that Zoey _wouldn't_ live through this nightmare. Sooner or later, the burden of keeping everything bottled up would overwhelm her, and she'd crack. Whether it would be emotional turmoil or the slipping of her sanity, Francis was unsure, but what he _did_ know was that if something wasn't done soon to stem it, she could end up dragging them down with her.

However, Francis had to hand it to the spunky brunette, when they had rescued her from her zombie-infested dorm, he honestly didn't think she'd make it to downtown Fairfield. He wasn't the only one either; Bill had his doubts about her, but in his good conscious, couldn't just leave her to her only two options: die of starvation or be ripped to shreds by a pack of Infected. She had come through though, and brought to the table an intelligent mind, uncanny skills with a rifle, and the knowledge of a self-proclaimed "Zombie Expert."

Tearing his gaze away from the young woman, Francis chose to glance at Bill, catching the elderly man in the act of yawning. A gloved hand rapped quietly against the edge of the table, drawing the veteran's focus. The biker gave Bill a look before nodding to the green sleeping bag near his pack. Bill heaved a weary sigh before nodding, offering Francis a small appreciative glance while rising silently from his chair. Wrinkled hands folded up the map…their lifeline in a sense, and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

Silence filled the room once more after Bill took a rest. Francis leaned back in his chair, resting his shaven head on the cold plaster of the wall. For his entire life, Francis breathed by one rule: live free. He had quickly found out, however, that to actually live free, he'd have to defy law, so he did just that. His time with Hell's Legion had been the greatest years of his life, ignoring authority, doing what he wanted, and letting the worries blow away with the rushing wind. Now, with authority (minus Bill) gone out the window, allowing anarchy to reign supreme, he had to admit that he sort of missed the cops. The world, or at least _their_ world, had been reduced to a primal game where the fittest survive. For once, Francis felt unnerved at the realization. He wasn't stronger than a Tank, faster than a Hunter, or as dangerous as a Witch. He was arrogant and cocky, but he was no fool, and he damn sure wasn't going to lie to himself.

It was when he saw tears that Francis muttered a long string a curses and rose to his feet. Shuffling around Louis, the biker shouldered his firearm and moved to the balcony. Zoey barely acknowledged him as the large man stepped outside, shooting her an almost cautious look. Her only response was the miniscule tightening of her grip around her hunting rifle and the recoiling of her outstretched hand. The water that had pooled in her palm fell, splashing against her leg that dangled idly over the edge. Francis lowered himself into a sitting position beside her, resting his shotgun at his side and noting, with a feeling akin to concern, that the brunette hadn't even attempted to wipe away her tears. Tense silence engulfed the two.

Francis' shoulders sagged with a sigh, "Alright, what's up?"

A dry, cynical chuckle left Zoey's lips, "'What's up?' That's the best you could come up with?"

A casual shrug was her response.

The brunette shook her head in disbelief, "Nothing's up, just the end of the goddamn world. Zombies are running around, killing people on a whim, the army's ditched us, and everywhere that's supposed to be 'safe' is crawling with more of those _things_."

Her voice was breaking, and her eyes were dilating…not a good sign, the stress was getting to her.

"You need to take a page from Louis' book and look on the bright side. At least you're still alive."

A scoff, "Right, better to be alive and face this hell up close, than to be dead and not have to worry about it."

"True…but at least you're not one of them."

"If you can't beat them…join them," Zoey argued in a hoarse whisper.

Francis snorted, "Yeah…but then I'd have to kill you."

His words didn't seem to comfort her in any way, forcing him to heave another sigh.

"Listen, I know there's not much that I can say that'll help…but you need to seriously snap out of it, Zo."

Another dry laugh, "And how do you suggest I do that, Francis? Should I close my eyes and tell myself that this is all just a bad dream?"

"No, but…"

Zoey ignored him, "Or maybe I should click my heels together and wish this all away?"

"Zoey…"

"Perhaps I should just shoot myself right here and now!"

Francis' fist slammed against the floor abruptly, derailing Zoey from her rant with a look of astonishment.

"…Don't ever say that," Francis muttered darkly, his eyes piercing through hers.

Anger swelled within the brunette's being, and she answered haughtily "Oh, and why not?"

"Do you have any idea what would happen if you killed yourself right now?"

The biker's dangerous tone stole whatever retort Zoey had in stock from her throat.

"Bill would go on a damn killing spree and end up being torn to bits, while Louis would probably go homicide on the nearest Witch in his grief. Whether you like it or not, those two care about you, and there's no way they'd be able to live with themselves if something happened to you."

Zoey remained silent as Francis' words swam through her head. Sensing that he wasn't going to receive a decent response, the biker rose to leave, shotgun in hand.

"…What about you?"

The question was so quiet that Francis had to strain his ears just to hear it. Out of all the things he expected Zoey to say, that wasn't one of them, and it caught the large survivor off guard. "What?"

Zoey lifted her gaze to him, "What about you? What would you do if I…_died_?"

Francis suddenly looked very uncomfortable, and the brunette had to suppress a laugh upon seeing the expression on his face. The biker scratched his cheek, the embarrassment almost reaching his face…_almost_. Hell, he didn't know what he'd do, and what the hell should he tell her? He glanced at Zoey from the corner of his eye. Shit! She was still staring at him expectantly.

With a sigh, Francis met her gaze, his face once again wrapped in somberness. "I won't let you."

Zoey blinked in surprise. She hadn't seen _that_ coming.

The biker scrambled to correct himself, looking away, "At least…not before me, anyway."

Francis risked a glimpse at the brunette, expecting some form of mockery to emit from her lips. Instead, to his astonishment, he was met with a curious gaze, a risen eyebrow complimenting the expression.

"What do you mean?" Her voice was small, almost childlike…and it annoyed the hell out of him.

Crouching down in front of Zoey, the large survivor shot her an even stare, "What I said about Bill and Louis were true, as for me…hell, I'd probably find a Tank and try to rip its spine from out of its ass."

Silence.

Zoey stared at Francis.

Francis stared at Zoey.

Pink lips twitched briefly before the brunette's expression cracked, peals of laughter erupting from her throat.

Francis blinked in confusion, taken aback by the unexpected reaction. Was she seriously mocking him for trying to comfort her? The biker huffed indignantly, but felt the rush of anger vanish as he listened to the girl's mirth. The laughs were no longer cynical and scornful; instead…they were melodic and full of amusement…full of _life_.

The tattooed survivor felt a scarred eyebrow rise as Zoey gripped her sides, tears streaming down her face. "You know, if you keep that up, you'll wake the others."

Zoey's laughter began to die down while she wiped her face with her sleeve, traces of amusement still on her lips.

"Sorry…just the mental image…" The brunette let out a small fit of giggles. "You're such an idiot, you know that?"

"So I've been told," Francis replied slowly, gauging his companion's reaction.

Zoey rose to her feet, rifle in hand, moving past the biker and into the room. Stopping, she glanced over her shoulder, seeing that Francis was still giving her a weird look.

"Did you mean it?"

Her voice hadn't reverted back to its former melancholy, nor was it one of amusement. It was an honest question, and for that, he'd give her an honest answer.

"Even if it means I have to throw myself between you and a Witch."

Zoey moved faster than he had anticipated, and was kneeling before him in an instant, one arm wrapped around him in a half-hug.

"Thank you," she whispered before rising once more.

Francis sat, dumbfounded, staring at the brunette's retreating back as she crept back over to her knapsack.

With a bewildered smirk, the biker shook his head, "Women."

* * *

"Francis, quit being a stubborn jackass about this!" Zoey yelled, frankly not giving a damn if every Infected in Newburg heard.

Francis swatted the outstretched med kit away with a look of irritation, "I'll stop being stubborn when you quit being a bitch about it!"

Taking the insult in stride, Zoey snapped back venomously, "If being a bitch is what it takes to get it through your thick skull, then so be it!"

"It's just a scratch! 'Sides, that's our last piece of first aid, save it for when someone's dying!"

"For God's sake, Francis, you're bleeding all over the place! You _will_ die if you don't get patched up!"

"I'm fine!" Francis snarled in return, ignoring the pain that coursed through his veins.

Louis raised his hand slightly, like a student waiting to be called on, "Technically…you're not."

"STAY OUT OF IT!" his two companions roared in unison while whirling around on him.

The businessman shrank back until he was standing next to Bill, "Okay."

Bill sighed and turned to Louis, "As much as I hate the idea of splitting up, I think we need to let them work this out on their own."

The dark-skinned man gulped and nodded, following the veteran into the adjacent room. Glancing over his shoulder at his two comrades, Louis let out a nervous chuckle, "We'll, uh…we'll just be in here if you need us."

Ignoring the two's departure, Zoey glared daggers at the biker, who was more than happy to return the gaze. "Seriously, why are you being so damn adamant about this!"

"Because I can be!" Francis growled out.

Okay, so maybe he didn't throw himself between Zoey and a Witch per say, but a Tank was close enough, right? After all, it wasn't _that_ long ago that they had their heart-to-heart in Riverside. What, did she think he was just spewing crap from his ass when he had said all that? Shit, this was _really_ starting to hurt.

Zoey threw her hands into the air, tossing the red object to the floor in the process, "Fine, sit here and die for all I care! At least I tried to help you!"

The brunette stomped over to the other side of the room in a huff, setting up her sleeping bag as far away from the jackass as possible. Flopping into the cocoon, Zoey rolled over to glare at the wall, pointedly making sure her back was facing Francis. She heard the biker mutter a string of curses, but chose to ignore him. Bill and Louis had eventually returned, and Zoey felt a smirk cross her lips when she overheard Francis chewing them out whenever either of them attempted to help him. Hey, if the idiot was going to refuse help in general, then he deserved whatever punishment that it wrought.

* * *

Zoey was unsure how much time had passed, the last she had heard before dozing off was Bill wishing them a goodnight before shuffling into the next room to keep watch, followed by Francis' pained voice telling him where he could shove his good night. However, now the room was relatively silent, with exception to Louis' quiet snoring.

"Shit!" The hissed profanity cut through the air.

Ah, so that's what had awoken her.

Turning over quietly, the brunette peeked at the source of the noise through her bangs. Francis was still sitting in his chair, the formerly discarded med kit in his lap. The large man's brow was furrowed in agitation as he awkwardly attempted to wrap a piece of gauze around one of his battered arms. Ocean-blue eyes rolled in their sockets as Zoey silently stood from her sleeping bag, a bottle in her hand.

Zoey suppressed a triumphant laugh when Francis jumped in surprise, startled by her sudden appearance. Snatching the first aid from the biker's lap, the young survivor simultaneously dropped the bottle of pills into his hands. The brunette pulled a chair up to Francis wordlessly, sorting through the container as her companion graciously inhaled a few tablets.

"You really are an idiot, you know that?" Zoey murmured while carefully disinfecting the various gashes littering the biker's frame.

Francis gritted his teeth at the stinging sensation, but smirked nonetheless, "So I've been told."

"Seriously though," the brunette said while meeting Francis' gaze. "What the hell are you trying to accomplish with the whole 'tough guy' act?"

Francis arched an eyebrow, "Is Bill alive?"

Zoey frowned at the obvious question, "Yes?"

"And Louis?"

"_Yes_."

The biker smirked, "And what about you?"

"_Francis_, what the hell are you talking about?" Zoey questioned with a confused glare.

The biker pushed on, "Are you hurt?"

"Obviously not."

Francis leaned back into the chair, a victorious grin on his face, "That's what I accomplished."

The brunette gawked at her companion, "_What?_"

Francis rolled his eyes, "Everyone has a job. Bill makes sure we're on the right track in getting the hell out of here, while Louis makes sure we don't kill each other."

Zoey stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"You give us the heads up on shit before it gets to us…as for me, I make sure the three of you get hurt as little as possible."

Blue eyes glowered at him, "So what, you're just going to keep intentionally throwing yourself at the zombies until we make it out?"

A casual shrug from the tattooed man only increased the intensity of her venomously look. "That's so stupid!"

Francis remained indifferent, shrugging his shoulders once more, "Eh."

Zoey shot to her feet, deciding to humor him, "What if you die before then!"

The arrogant grin appeared once more, "I won't."

"Really?" Sarcasm dripped from the word. "Because you already look like you're halfway there."

The grin never left his face, "I'm indestructible, remember?"

An aggravated noise emitted from Zoey's throat, but she ultimately chose to fume in silence. A conflict raged in her eyes, causing the biker to once again raise an eyebrow.

After a minute, the brunette sighed and glanced at Francis, "Knowing you, you'll keep on doing this shit even if we tell you not to."

"Yep!" the biker chirped. A feminine hand was suddenly positioned in his face, causing Francis to blink.

Zoey stared down at him, "Since you won't allow me to die before you, at the very least…promise me you won't die in this hellhole, no matter how stupid you are."

Francis eyed the hand momentarily before weakly grasping it in a gentle handshake. "Deal."

With that, a strange air surrounded the two as Zoey helped the biker to his feet. Perhaps this would be a new start for them, a clean slate, the brunette thought while helping Francis into his sleeping bag. Turning away from him, Zoey retrieved the discarded bottle of pills, setting it beside the biker's pack in case he needed them before the night was through.

"Thanks," Francis mumbled while shifting awkwardly.

Zoey, in her turn, offered him a small smile before standing, the now empty med kit in her hands.

"Zo," the biker called as the young survivor began moving back to her own pack.

"Hm?" Zoey hummed while spinning on her heel.

"Nice ass."

The med pack smashed into Francis' face, causing the biker's laughs to be muffled. Zoey dusted off her hands and returned to her sleeping back in a huff for the second time that evening.

Then again, maybe some things would never change.

A smile reached Zoey's lips.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-

**A/N: Hey all, Confu (formerly Reap'em) here and I'm back from the dead. This piece right here is only the beginning, as I plan on throwing in more chapters that ultimately dive into the relationships between ALL of the original survivors. So I hope you enjoyed it and hope you continue with me as I finish this project.**

**As always, reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated.**

**- C.C.**


	2. Optimistic Pessimism

**Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, Valve does. **

**Author's Note: I will be shifting the Primary/Secondary Characters to whichever two survivors the current chapter is focused on.**

* * *

Ties that Bind

By: Confused Confusion

-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-

* * *

Optimistic Pessimism

**Character Focus: Louis and Bill**

_

* * *

_

Well, it can only get better…right?

_Stay positive, guys! I've got a good feeling about this!_

_Humanity's gonna bounce right back, just you watch!_

_Cheer up, man; we're almost through this._

_I knew we were gonna make it! I told you!_

"You know…if you ignore the zombies and the crazy guy, this is actually a pretty nice town."

Bill felt his eye twitch in agitation, the spry old man barely able to contain the growl that threatened to erupt from his throat. He had nothing against Louis on a personal level; the businessman had proven time and again that he could pull his own weight. However, what Bill _did_ hate was the annoying and cheery comments that kept popping out of the younger survivor's mouth. Looking on the bright side of things, especially in their situation, wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but there was such a thing as being _too_ optimistic. The veteran just couldn't shake the feeling that Louis was failing to see the reality of what was transpiring around them.

"Pipe down, Louis," Bill ordered sharply without even sparing the dark-skinned man a glance.

Louis frowned temporarily until his face broke into a grin once again, "Come on, Bill, cheer up!"

"I said shut it!"

Louis blinked, taken aback by the outburst, while Zoey and Francis shared looks of surprise.

"Wow, Bill. What crawled up your ass and died?" Francis wondered while moving up beside the elderly man.

Bill shot the biker a cutting glance, "Back off, Francis, I'm not in the mood for your shit either."

Francis arched an eyebrow, but chose to relent. There was no point in bothering Bill when he was in one of _those_ moods.

"Listen, Bill, I'm sorry if I upset you, man," Louis attempted, but was once again silenced by the cold glare. "Alright, alright, I'm backing down."

Zoey gave the businessman a quizzical look as he fell in step with her, "What the hell did you do, Louis?"

The dark-skinned man frantically waved his hands, "I have no idea!"

Francis stepped up to Louis' other side, a suspicious glance aimed at the younger man, "Well, you obviously did something."

"I did not!" the bald survivor cried defensively.

"Pipe down back there!" Bill barked from the head of the group.

The three reduced their conversation to hushed whispers, all eyes staring a hole through the veteran's back.

"What do you think he's so pissed about?"

"Dunno…Louis, did you take his cigarettes?"

"_Francis!_"

"What? Of course not, you know I don't smoke!"

"Eh, you never know…"

"But I **do** know!"

"What the hell did I just tell you people?" Bill snarled, not even sparing the three a glance this time.

"Sorry, Bill." Louis attempted weakly.

"I don't want your apologies! I just want you to shut up!"

Louis relented and the group fell into a tense silence.

* * *

"GET IT OFF!" Francis roared from the floor, fending off the Hunter's flailing claws as best he could with his arms.

"Dammit, hold still!" Zoey yelled in return while taking careful aim with her rifle.

"Easy for you to say!" The biker snapped back, wincing as the hooded Infected's hand slipped through his defense, the sharpened bones slicing through his cheek.

The brunette's only response was a deafening _**bang**_, the Hunter's head instantly exploding in a shower of gore. Francis kicked the corpse away, quickly snatching up his fallen shotgun. Facing the young woman, his brown eyes widened in an expression akin to fear.

"DUCK!"

Zoey instinctively dropped to the ground just as another loud blast filled the room. The brunette rolled forward, coming to a stop just in front of Francis. Whirling around, she found the barely-standing form of an Infected, its entire abdomen cut to ribbons. Bone and sinew stood out sickeningly beneath the gray flesh. Worst of all, the shot had destroyed much of the former human's ribcage, revealing a still-_beating _heart and working lungs.

Another shot rang out, and the Infected was thrown backwards. Rising to her feet, Zoey exchanged a grateful nod with the biker. On the other side of the large room, Louis and Bill finished dispatching the remnants of the horde. The veteran refused to meet the businessman's ever present questioning gaze, the tension around the two still **very** apparent.

Francis snorted haughtily. "Well that wasn't so bad."

_Blurp!_

As if fate were listening, a massive, round form fell abruptly from the rafters. The survivors watched in impending horror as the Boomer plummeted toward the ground. A loud _**pop**_ echoed throughout the room, followed by disgusted groans. The four humans - now covered in green slime – stumbled around the room in a blind stupor.

Wiping the substance from his face, Bill growled and plucked the remains of his ruined cigarette from his lips. The veteran glared at the object briefly before throwing it to the floor in a huff. A snarl built in the back of the elderly man's throat as he sucked in a deep breath, preparing to let loose a string of loud curses.

The rant died on Bill's lips, the senior's blood running cold through his veins as his ears picked up the chilling telltale sign…

…Howls and screams rapidly approached.

* * *

"We made it! Nice one, guys!" Louis cheered as the group moved into the safe room.

Francis snorted and winced while clutching his side. "Right, made it…woo."

Zoey followed the biker closely, all but smacking Francis in the back of the head with a med kit. The brunette's attitude was just as enthusiastic, the college student sporting a few bruises and scratches herself.

Louis still didn't falter, "Come on, we're going to make it to the river. No sweat!"

At that, Bill snapped. Gripping the dark-skinned man's arm tightly, the veteran halted the younger survivor in his tracks.

The bald man tugged on his arm, but the senior refused to relent. "Hey, Bill…Yo, man, let go of my arm."

"No."

"No? What gives?"

"You and I need to have a little chat." Bill responded icily while pulling Louis around the support wall.

The businessman finally wrenched his arm free, massaging the limb tenderly. "What the hell, Bill? What did I say?"

Bill sneered at him, "I'm sick and tired of all this positive, optimistic bullshit you've been spouting ever since Fairfield."

Louis' mouth fell agape momentarily before the younger man sputtered. "So, what? You're angry because I'm looking on the_ bright side_? Well, maybe if you weren't always focusing on the negative shit that happens…"

"You have to look at the bad side of things like this, Louis!"

"Why?" Louis shouted back, quickly becoming livid with the whole ordeal.

Bill's voice remained even, "It's the only way you'll stay alive."

"**What?**" Louis hissed incredulously, shaking his head for further emphasis.

"If you just look at the positive shit, you end up ignoring everything else. Consequently, you become blind to the situation that you're really in!"

Louis snorted, unconvinced. "How am I blind then? I'm aware of our situation."

The veteran simply grabbed the younger man by the scruff of his neck, forcing the businessman to look around the corner. Francis and Zoey were sitting across from one another at the far end of the room. The pair ignored the two eavesdroppers as Zoey gingerly wrapped a roll of gauze around the biker's midsection. The brunette was remarkably devoid of her usual playful and taunting remarks whenever Francis was injured or complaining. Instead, the young woman worked in methodical silence, moving the cloth purposefully and carefully. Meanwhile, Francis wore an expression of self-loathing as the biker's eyes swept over Zoey's form, mentally counting how many injuries he had failed to protect her from.

Louis felt guilt build up in his diaphragm as he observed his companions. Both looked haggard and beaten…almost _deathly_ in appearance, but the grim determination that had gotten the group this far still burned faintly in their eyes.

Bill placed a gentle hand on the younger man's shoulder in a gesture of comfort, although the ice still remained in his voice. "We're in a life or death situation here, son. If we want to survive this and make it out in one piece, then we need to look this shit in the eye…not sugarcoat it."

The businessman heaved an almost _defeated_ sigh. "It's not like I try to pretend the harsh stuff isn't there."

"Good to know." Although the remark sounded spiteful at first, Louis could sense the venom leave the veteran's words.

"But…"

"But?" Bill echoed with a frown.

Louis turned around and looked the elderly man in the eye. "_You_ can't just focus on the darker side of things all the time."

Bill opened his mouth to protest.

The dark-skinned man raised his hand, stopping the older man's dispute before it could begin. "If we think only of the hell we're stuck in, then we'll be no better than the zombies that are trying to kill us."

The veteran scratched his beard, shooting his companion a suspicious gaze. "What do you mean, exactly?"

Louis outstretched his arms. "Look at us. We're still alive, aren't we? We're not dead on the streets or shambling around waiting for something to kill."

Bill looked thoughtful for a moment. "Never really looked at it that way…I guess I owe you an apology."

Louis shook his head, smiling. "Nah, man. I shouldn't have been acting like an over-cheery jackass."

The spry old man smirked and extended his hand. "We'll make a deal then. I'll agree to be a little more optimistic, and you agree to be a little more pessimistic."

Louis grinned and shook the veteran's hand.

Bill halted the gesture briefly. "That means less idiotic comments, got it?"

The businessman merely laughed and nodded, earning another smirk from Bill.

"Deal."

* * *

"If that Slater jackass doesn't get here soon, I'm gonna kick his ass!" Francis roared over the gunfire, his heavy boot slamming into the face of an Infected as it clambered onto the balcony.

"I think you'll be a little too dead to do that!" Zoey challenged mockingly while removing a zombie's head from its shoulders with a well placed bullet.

"Then I'll haunt his ass!" The biker shouted triumphantly.

"His ass, really?"

"The homosexual evidence just keeps racking up against you, Francis!" Louis laughed from the gattling gun.

"Shaddup!"

"Quiet!" Bill ordered sharply, earning a disapproving glance from the businessman. The veteran continued in a less cutting tone. "Something's coming."

The dwindled number of Infected began to disperse, sprinting back into the shelter of the trees. The scene left a weight in the stomachs of the survivors. A scattering of the hordes of Infected meant one of only two things: a Boomer exploding elsewhere or a…

"TANK!" Louis screamed while pointing to the right side of the boathouse.

The survivors barely had enough time to catch a glimpse of the leviathan before a large piece of rock was sent hurtling toward them. Leaping in opposing directions, the humans were scarcely able to avoid the deadly projectile as it crashed into the side of the building. The boathouse shuddered and groaned in protest from the assault. Francis and Zoey darted around the back of the structure, dropping down onto the patio as the Tank hoisted itself onto the balcony. Louis and Bill, meanwhile, practically threw themselves down the staircase inside the house.

The veteran stopped abruptly, detouring to grab a discarded gas can from the main room.

"What the hell are you doing?" Louis shouted after noticing the spry old man was no longer following him.

"Keep going, I've got your back!" Bill ordered in return as the Infected behemoth began muscling its way down the narrow stairwell.

Louis gnashed at his teeth before complying, sprinting through the doorway while the bearded survivor kicked the red container onto the base of the stairs. Backpedaling outside, Bill fired at the canister, igniting the contents within. The Tank literally burst into flames, roaring in agitation as the flames licked at its rapidly charring flesh.

"What the hell did you do?" Louis demanded as Bill caught up to him.

"Hopefully solved our Tank problem."

The businessman glanced over his shoulder, taking in the sight of the burning section of the boathouse. Louis felt his jaw drop.

"_Bill!_"

The sound of a boat horn cut out whatever the younger survivor had in store for the spry old man. The duo turned their attention to the source of the noise where a white light was cutting its way through the river's thick fog.

"Over here!" Francis roared from the edge of the dock, flaming bottle in hand. Zoey ignored the biker's wild arm-waving, too enthralled in the task at hand: covering her other two companions.

A loud crash causing Bill to glanced behind him, his aged eyes widening in fear. The Tank – still ablaze – had smashed through the wall and was now bounding after them with renewed fury.

"Christ! Is it me or did that thing just get faster?" Louis screamed in terror while sprinting down the dock.

"Incoming!"

The veteran noted the Molotov soaring over his head…and shattering across the face of their pursuer. The Tank skidded to a stop, howling in pain as the flammable liquid and shards of glass bit into its eyes. The remainder of the volatile substance splattered across the wooden planks, bringing a wall of fire roaring to life. The Saint Lydia II floated to a stop at the end of the dock as the two straggling survivors caught up.

"Hurry up, get on!" Slater's voice ordered over a small speaker that was attached to the small cabin.

As the four clambered onto the vessel, Bill let out a sigh. "That was close."

"What. The. Hell?" Francis muttered in disbelief as he gazed starboard, his eyes locked onto something beyond the towering inferno.

"MOVE!" Zoey screamed at the cabin, seemingly aware of what the biker was seeing.

The boat's engine roared to life, the ship lurching forward from the effort. Louis strained his eyes to the point of pain, trying to find what it was that was freaking out his comrades so much. Brown eyes nearly popped out of their skull as the businessman made out the silhouette of the still-standing Tank. The monstrous Infected stabbed its meaty hands into the ground, pulling up a large piece of earth.

"Oh…shit!" Louis screamed as the object was sent soaring toward the fleeing boat.

"DOWN!" Bill's command was met with no resistance as the four ducked, barely avoiding the projectile as it hurtled past.

The veteran cautiously poked his head up, noting the fiery dock and boathouse disappearing from view, once again being consumed by the thick fog. The elderly man popped a cigarette from his carton out of habit. "Huh…looks like he missed."

Louis grabbed the railing of the boat and tremulously pulled himself into a sitting position. "Holy shit…we almost died!"

"True." Bill nodded, eyeing the dim orange glow ahead with mild suspicion. The veteran flashed the younger man a knowing grin. "But it could've been worse."

**-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-**

**A/N: Rock Chalk, readers! Sorry about dragging my feet with this chapter. I know it seemed a little forced…because it was. I had a some trouble figuring out how to go about it due to the fact that you hardly ever see any interaction between Louis and Bill that it's difficult to gauge what kind of relationship they have. After looking over the game's dialogue and their personalities, the only thing I could really come up with was that given Bill's history, he'd be a very negative person. Meanwhile, Louis is undisputed as the group optimist. I don't know about you guys, but Louis' constant cheery comments would be uplifting at first…but would begin to annoy the crap out of me.**

**Up Next: Francis - Louis **

**As always, reviews and feedback are appreciated.**

**- C.C.**


	3. A Different Method of Bonding

**Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, Valve does. **

**Author's Note: I will be shifting the Primary/Secondary Characters to whichever two survivors the current chapter is focused on.**

* * *

Ties that Bind

By: Confused Confusion

-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-

* * *

A Different Method of Bonding

**Character Focus: Francis and Louis**

* * *

Louis glanced around the small moving compartment with mixed emotions, unconsciously sizing up his new companions that were accompanying him through this particular trip through Hell. Two weeks…two weeks ago, everything had been fine. Granted, he was still stuck in his dead end job, but at least he wasn't desperately trying to cling to life while running from rabid humans. Seven days ago the virus had reached his office, and seven days ago he had taken his first life. He could still see the blood on his hands, no matter how hard he scrubbed and washed, he could still _feel_ it there. After that point, things just moved in a blur, repeating the same flitting things: death, blood, destruction, and rage-filled eyes.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since they had come across each other, hours and days were starting to meld together. Louis was sure his dulled perception of time was a result from the lack of sleep he had endured for a majority of the outbreak. All he knew was that it had begun to rain the moment these three had found him, and outside the walls of the hospital…it still rained.

They were a ragtag bunch, no doubt about it. The crazy old war veteran, the sardonic college student, the foolhardy biker, and himself: the skittish businessman. Just thinking about it…none of them really had anything in common, with exception to the fact that they were all somehow immune to Green. They were all different in every possible way, how in the hell were they suppose to work together to get out of here? Louis was amazed that they had made it this far with their incompatibility, but somehow…they managed.

The businessman glanced at Zoey, who was staring at the green display with a mixture of impatience and anxiety as the number continued to rise. He couldn't really blame her, if the elevator truly went to the 28th floor, then they'd be just underneath the roof. Francis had quickly gotten bored with standing in silence, instead choosing to reload his firearms and check his ammunition. Louis noticed that out of all of them, the biker seemed the least affected by the sudden arrival of the apocalypse. Hell, the first time they had encountered a Tank, Francis hadn't even so much as flinched when an SUV was sent hurtling less that a meter past him. He had earned the title of "Badass," that much Louis was certain. Bill was quick to pull out a cigarette, as soon as the doors closed, in fact. The veteran had glanced at the "No Smoking" sign briefly before inhaling the nicotine. After the first puff, Bill had ripped the sign off the wall, thrown it to the floor, and popped the service door in the ceiling open to prevent the compartment from getting _too_ smoky.

Louis fidgeted at the tense silence, no one had uttered a word other than Bill's "good work," after they had fought their way through a pack of Infected to just _reach_ the elevator.

The businessman let out a nervous chuckle, catching the attention of his three companions. "Man, when we make it out of here, Zoey, Bill, I'm getting you both jobs!" Louis ignored the quizzical expressions on the two's faces, and turned toward the large man across from him. "Francis, I'm gonna teach your ass how to read!"

Zoey and Bill had snickered at the comment, but the biker had merely sent the businessman a look that clearly said 'Screw You,' accentuated by a rising of his middle fingers.

Little did he know that his innocent attempt at conversation had sparked an all-out brawl of words between Francis and himself. One that would last for the remainder of their journey…

* * *

Francis rubbed the back of neck with a grimace, the biker futilely trying to click his upper vertebra into place. Bending down, the large man picked up his discarded shotgun and spared a glance over his shoulder at the burning remains of the news chopper. Brown eyes narrowed into slits as the biker recalled the series of…well, _crappy_ events that led them to their current predicament…

They had blasted their way through Fairfield…

Fought the grueling, pain-in-the-ass trek to Mercy's roof…

He had dropkicked a Boomer over the edge of the rooftop. Francis unconsciously grinned as he recalled that.

The pilot had circled around, picked them up, and still managed to avoid the Tank that had lunged off the building trying to catch the helicopter…

…Then shit started to go south…

Turns out the pilot was infected and literally turned on them _while_ flying them to safety…

Zoey had been the quickest on the trigger; unfortunately the damn rounds she was using went right through the guy and into the controls…

Bill – thankfully – knew how to pilot a chopper, and was able to keep them from spinning out of control.

Sucks that they still ended up crashing, and from the looks of it, they didn't even make it out of goddamn Fairfield.

Francis growled in annoyance, feeling the urge to express his displeasure for their situation. His eyes locked onto the man that was sitting on a discarded crate, fiddling with his Uzi.

"Well, Mr. Positive…we just crashed, got anything positive to say to that?"

Louis glanced up, raising an eyebrow at the biker's agitated stare. "Well…we lived through it, didn't we?"

Francis opened his mouth to retort, but reluctantly shut it after noticing Bill's warning glare.

"Can we just get moving, please?" Zoey pleaded in an exasperated tone while pinching the bridge of her nose. Bill grunted his agreement, leaving little room for argument.

The survivors moved away from the wreckage, knowing full well that such a noisy crash would surely bring the Infected swarming, if it hadn't already. Knowing this, they certainly _did not_ want to be anywhere near here when the horde arrived. Wandering down a dimly lit alley, Louis glanced around for any sign of useful graffiti.

"…Hey Francis…isn't this the alley you were born in?" Louis inquired casually, still glancing around the narrow space.

Francis snorted while moving to block the alley's exit. "Ha. Ha. Ha. This the one you wanna _die_ in?"

The businessman raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. Take it easy, I give."

* * *

Louis hopped off the boat, spinning on his heel to wave goodbye to John and Amanda as the small boat pushed away from the dock.

"Thanks for the info, guys. Stay safe out there and try not to die." John chuckled over the speaker.

"Same goes for you, brother." Francis smirked in return, nodded at the windowed cabin before turning toward the burning city before them. "So this is Newburg, eh? They need to fire their firefighters."

Bill cuffed him across the ear, "Don't be an ass, Francis."

"Oh, come on, Bill! Look at the place!" The biker growled out, unconsciously rubbing his stinging ear.

During their rather dull trip down the river, the survivors had used the time to get to know each other a little better, since it looked as if they'd be traveling in the same company for longer than expected. Zoey had explained her reasons for dropping out of college, her love of all things horror, and how she learned her uncanny skills with a hunting rifle. Bill hadn't divulged too much about himself, other than why he was always limping and that Vietnam was still worse than this. Francis…well Francis seemed a little _too_ eager to share his "exploits" against both the police and society in general. Meanwhile, Louis had talked about his workplace and how he hated it, his hobbies prior to the outbreak, and his time spent at the gun range during lunch breaks.

"So, Francis…how long _were_ you in prison, anyway?"

The biker shrugged and glanced at the younger survivor, "Depends, how many vampires have we killed?"

"_Zombies_." Zoey added with a sigh.

"Don't care," Francis nonchalantly shot back.

Louis gave the biker a strange look. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Francis patted the businessman's head as if he were chastising a child. "Everything, Louis…everything."

The dark-skinned survivor stared in confusion as the biker walked ahead of him. "_What?_"

Bill stepped up beside the dumbstruck survivor, scratching his beard in thought. "I think he's trying to confuse you."

"Sure as hell doing a good job." Louis muttered while running a hand over his bald cranium.

The group fell into silence as they exited the port and into the city. Burning skyscrapers littered the horizon, basking the sky in a flickering orange hue. Louis was unsure how much time had passed, but it wasn't until they had passed the first destroyed blockade that Francis began to sing…that's right…_sing_.

"One hundred bottles of beer on the wall, one hundred bottles of beer…kill a zombie, chug it downnnnnn. Oh, ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall!"

Zoey glanced at Bill. "Can I shoot him?"

The veteran snorted in amusement. "You first, I'll follow."

Francis continued humming, undeterred by the comments of his comrades. "Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer…kill a zombie, chug it down…ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall!"

Louis sighed and rubbed his temples.

**14 Minutes Later…**

"Two bottles of beer on the wall, two bottles of beer…kill a Witch, chug it **down**! One last bottle of beer on the wall!"

Louis threw his hands into the air. "For the love of God! Will you _please _stop singing?"

Francis glanced at the peeved businessman with little interest. "No sir-ee, **bob**."

"One last bottle of beer on the wall, one more bottle of beer…light it up, chuck it at a Tank! One _really_ dead Tank on the wall!"

The biker turned to meet the expecting stares of the other survivors. "What? You want me to sing it again?"

"**No**." They answered in unison.

Francis shrugged. "Suit yourselves."

* * *

Louis threw himself out of the open doorway, using every ounce of his willpower to resist the ever-growing urge to vomit. The businessman fell to his knees near the rooftop's edge, dry-heaving as sweat poured down his face. Zoey, who had remained outside of the greenhouse, inched away from the door as the vile stench dispersed into the outside air, mixing with the already apparent odor of smoke and ash. The brunette turned her vision away from the building and of Louis, unconsciously bringing a sleeved hand up to cover her mouth and nose. She knew what was in there; she could tell from Louis' reaction…it was plastered all over his face.

Bill and Francis slowly filed out of the greenhouse, somber expressions on their faces.

"Not a single one…" Bill murmured without meeting Louis' anxious – yet expecting – glance.

"All dead." Francis clarified impassively while gazing down at the large, orange 'HELP!' that was painted across the roof's surface.

Zoey shuddered and futilely attempted to bite back a sob, a tiny sound escaping from her throat as a result. Louis shook his head in disbelief, wiping his brow with a quivering hand.

"Surely there's gotta be at least one…" The businessman whispered while looking up, but was met by Francis' hard stare.

"It's a goddamn bloodbath in there, white collar, trust me. Don't take my word for it though; you're welcome to go look again for yourself."

"Francis…"

"Shut it, Bill! I can understand Zoey, she's still a kid," The comment was not opposed, the girl in question still looking away. "But Louis here is a goddamn adult, so he better start acting like one!"

Louis took a deep breath in a desperate bide to ease his nerves. "I'm still trying to get used to this kind of shit, Francis. It's just…it's just that it's hard to believe that _humans_ could have done something like that…"

Francis groaned, "For the love of – they're not human!"

"**They were human at one point!**" Louis roared back.

Francis blinked in surprise, that was probably the first time the young businessman had ever snapped at…well…_any_ of them.

"They _were_ human, just like you and me, before shit hit the fan! They had friends, family, jobs, and _dreams_! You wouldn't understand that though, would you? Nope, not Francis! Not Mr. Inde – fucking - structable! Surely not the man who didn't have any friends or family, hell no!"

Louis' tirade was cut short as a gloved fist slammed into the side of his face, knocking the businessman off his feet.

"Alright, Francis, that's enough!" Bill ordered, swiftly moving in between the pair to prevent any further violence. By the greenhouse, Zoey cringed, having witnessed both the verbal _and_ physical blows.

Francis remained silent; his fists still balled as hard brown eyes glared daggers at the fallen man. Seconds ticked by in tense silence as Louis struggled to clear his head.

"Listen here, _Louis_," The businessman's name spat out of the biker's mouth like venom. "Don't ever assume about what I _did_ and _didn't_ have…or about what I _have_ and _haven't_ **lost**."

Bill squared his shoulders, "I said that's enough, Fran-"

A white blur shot past Bill before the veteran could finish, a dark-skinned fist crashing into Francis' chin. The force of the blow had the biker turned at the waist, his head dipped low, leaving his face unreadable from Bill's angle. Louis stood before the larger survivor, panting while nursing his now-battered hand.

Slowly – and almost frighteningly – Francis stood straight, eyeing the younger man with a cold stare. Turning his head to the side, the biker spat out a mouthful of crimson before turning his gaze back to Louis.

Bill and Zoey stood in edgy silence, fully aware of what was about to happen to Louis.

Unexpectedly, a smirk slowly made its way to Francis' lips. A chuckle followed shortly after, leaving his companions in shock. "Not bad, not bad…for a chicken shit, that is."

Louis, still looking like a cornered animal, nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Damn right."

Francis moved back toward the greenhouse casually. "Come on, let's hurry up and find a way out of this dump."

Louis followed suit wordlessly, leaving Zoey and Bill to gape at their retreating backs.

"The hell did we just witness?"

"…I have no idea."

Zoey shook her head and jogged through the door, pointedly ignoring the massacre she had to step past to do so. Catching up with her two companions, the brunette shot them a weird look. "So…are either of you going to explain what that was back there?"

Francis shrugged, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"We were bonding."

**-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-**

**A/N: A semi-frequent update? I know…it surprised even me. This chapter really goes without too much say. The basis of Francis' and Louis' relationship is insults and general mockery. I was originally going to do an all out insult war between the two…but that was replaced in the middle of being written when I got to the greenhouse scene. Hands sort of took over from that point and viola! Granted, this chapter was a little on the short side, but I'm trying to stay away from massive content-filled chapter (15+ pages). I have fun with them…but they just tend to stretch over several months at a time.**

**As for the Beer Song…it is a legitimate, Zombie Apocalypse song, and (God forbid) if the ZA ever occurs, I expect someone to sing it while out zombie-killing. **

**Up Next: Louis – Zoey (I know, I'm bum-rushing the Louis chapters, but only because I have big plans for the remaining two. To get to them, I need to get this one out of the way first.)**

**As always, reviews and feedback are appreciated.**

**- C.C.**


	4. Sibling Rivalry

**Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, Valve does. **

**Author's Note: I will be shifting the Primary/Secondary Characters to whichever two survivors the current chapter is focused on.**

* * *

Ties that Bind

By: Confused Confusion

-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-

* * *

Sibling Rivalry

**Character Focus: Louis and Zoey**

_

* * *

_

Zo, you need to get your act together! If you don't, then you'll never make it in the real world…

Her father had said that…

Zoey's brow furrowed as that particular memory played in her mind. Her father had been discussing – more like yelling – with her about her dropping grades and poor attendance record for the semester. He had voiced his disdain, constantly asking himself about where he had gone wrong in raising her. Zoey had felt that her father had gone a _little_ overboard with the statement, but knew full well how expensive the tuition at the university was. The brunette hadn't cared though…about classes anyway. Zoey had always been drawn to horror - the source of her failing academics - ever since she had first seen Romero's original _Night of the Living Dead_ as a little girl.

Besides, her little brother was a smart kid. He would go far, he'd be the successful child that dad had always wanted. Her father had originally put all the pressure on her, not paying enough attention to his son. Zoey had hoped, _prayed_, that with the turn of events, he would start putting forth more consideration toward his youngest child. Austin was a sweet kid…he needed a real father figure in his life.

Those were his last words to her, and her response was none too kind either. It was the final time she exchanged words with her father before the outbreak hit. Since then, every phone, every radio, and any other form of long distance communication were either out of service or controlled by the military. She had holed up in her bathroom for days as her fellow students were massacred just on the other side of the wall…at least she was spared the horror of watching Fairfield destroy itself.

When Bill and Francis came across her and pulled her from her delusion of "safety," she was faced with the forlorn, half-razed city that they had left behind. Being in their company had bolstered her confidence and optimism to some extent, and she had even tried to make light of the situation. That's right; this was just like another one of her zombie movies, no big deal. They'd fight their way through the city, find an escape, barely make it and then ride off into the sunset where she'd be reunited with her family and everyone would have a happy ending.

This wasn't a movie however, and she had come to accept that reality. Zoey had tried to tell herself that her family was fine…that they had gotten out of her hometown before shit hit the fan. However, the more she gazed at the various maps and graffiti they came across, she knew…deep down, she knew. The first night it had sunken in, she had cried for hours while they were holed up in one of CEDA's safe houses. Louis – bless the poor guy – had tried to console her, but was only met with more persistent sobs.

Her father had been right all along. Although she doubted that he had meant it in this particular context, she _did_ need to get her act together. Zoey knew full well that it was going to require every bit of will power – and then some – to survive this whole ordeal. What _did_ it take to survive a zombie apocalypse? Was it brains? Was it courage? Perseverance?

Louis was their brain, so they were well covered in that department. The businessman had proven to be a walking knowledge bank, and frankly, Zoey didn't want to know where Louis had picked up some of the things he knew. Regardless, it was his knowledge that led them through life-saving shortcuts in Fairfield and into Riverside through the drainage systems. If there was anyone that she could trust with a plan, it was Louis.

The line dividing courage and stupidity was a murky one, but either way, Francis was fearless in everything he did. It wasn't that he was always the first to throw himself in harm's way; they had all done that at one point or another. It was more that no matter what he did, Francis wouldn't so much as bat an eyelash at it. Despite what she had told him in Riverside, a part of her hoped that the biker somehow _was_ as indestructible as he claimed. Zoey knew, without a doubt, that they all would've been dead long ago had it not been for Francis.

Where Francis was crazy and Louis smart, Bill was relentless. In spite of seemingly insurmountable odds, the old-timer would never quit. If a wall stood in his way, he'd simply blow it up. If that didn't work, then he would punch and kick the holy hell out of it till the wall crumbled. Bill was the undisputed patriarch of the group, all decisions were made through him, and all ideas were suggested to him first and foremost. The veteran's leadership had gotten them this far, and Zoey knew - beyond a shadow of a doubt - that it would get them through this.

It felt like a family almost, a sensation long forgotten in the screams and bloody violence that had plagued Zoey's mind for the past two weeks. Bill was like a second father to her, reminding her of her own father to such an extent that it frightened her. They were both stern, serious, and always wore a sober mask, but at the same time, still cared deeply for the wellbeing of those around them. Louis was the older brother she never had, always looking out for her without getting too overprotective. He was the peacemaker, constantly making sure everything was okay in the "family." Francis felt like the family friend who was always welcomed, as if he were already apart of the family. Constantly hanging around the house, coming and going as he pleased, but was still there, even during the bad times.

They were her family….because despite hoping against all hope, she knew…

Her real family…was long since dead…

* * *

"You know what we could use right about now?" Francis thought aloud as they moved through an abandoned construction site.

"I swear to God, if you start singing again, I'm putting a bullet in your head," Bill growled, his wrinkled hand inching toward the holster at his hip.

Francis waved the threat off. "Nah, we need a game or something. You know, a challenge to kill time while we trudge through this burning dump."

"That has to be the stupidest idea you've ever had…"

"I don't know, Bill, I kind of like it." Louis defended with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Bill's eyes rolled in their sockets before focusing on Zoey, who smiled apologetically and shrugged. With a sigh, the veteran bowed his head in defeat.

"Do whatever you want, but if we all die…I'm still killing Francis."

"_Hey!_"

"Now let's see, it needs to be a simple game, one that we can play while moving around…" Louis wondered, wracking his brain for ideas.

"How about 'I Spy?'" Zoey suggested after a moment of silence.

"Hell. No."

Louis shot the biker a confused look. "Why not?"

Francis glanced at the businessman, "Because one of my buddies died while playing that stupid game."

Zoey and Louis gaped at the back of the large survivor's head. The brunette was the first to recover.

"_How?_"

"We were playing it on the road for a good laugh. We couldn't hear Chuck over the roar of our choppers, so he had leaned over so we could hear him better. Took his eyes of the road and then _pow!_ Hit a turtle and spun out of control."

"…Are you kidding me?" Louis muttered in disbelief.

"Swear to God."

"Sounds to me like he died because he was an idiot," The businessman uttered before he could help himself.

Louis' hand promptly found its way to his mouth, eyes wide with horror as they stared a hole through Francis' skull. Zoey wore a similar expression, only hers was aimed at the dark-skinned survivor. Bill stood off to the side, gazing warily between Francis and Louis.

To their surprise, Francis merely shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much…still think it's a stupid game though."

Louis released the breath he had been holding while wiping his forehead in relief. After recomposing himself, the businessman frowned.

"There's really nothing else to play then…"

Zoey snapped her fingers in triumph. "I got it!"

The others glanced at the youngest survivor, two with anticipation and one with uncaring.

"We can have a contest."

"A contest?" Francis echoed, his brow knitting together.

The brunette nodded, "Yeah, each Infected's worth a set amount of points and whoever has the most points by the time we get out of here wins."

A sadistic grin spread across Francis' face. "Hell yes!"

Bill scratched his beard in thought, a smile slowly making its way to his lips. "That's something I could get into."

Receiving a nod from Louis, the survivors reduced their conversation to a hushed whisper as they mapped out the rules for their new "game." Minutes flitted by and before any of them knew it, they were passing through an alleyway.

"Alright, so Tanks are worth a hundred, Witches are one-fifty, regular zombies are a point, and everything else in between is twenty-five; agreed?"

The men nodded, causing Zoey to grin. "Alright, let the game begin!"

* * *

"This is bullshit," Francis muttered in disdain, his hardened features somehow twisting their way into a pout.

"What now, Francis?" Bill asked in obvious exasperation.

"Zoey rigged this game."

The brunette in question blinked. "How?"

"You have a friggin' sniper rifle! You can pick shit off before we even see it!" The biker protested indignantly.

Louis chuckled from beside the larger man. "Aw, are you getting mad because a girl is beating you?"

"She's whipping your ass too."

The businessman straightened defensively. "Only by eighty-five points."

"A difference you'll never make up~" Zoey sang with a cheeky grin.

Louis met her with a challenging smirk. "Oh, we'll see about that!"

"Quiet down!" Bill snapped quickly, silencing the group in a heartbeat.

Francis leaned forward, all business now, and addressed the veteran in a low voice. "What is it?"

Bill frowned, his senses trying to distinguish the source of his sudden anxiety. "I'm not sure."

The ground beneath them suddenly shook with a small tremor, causing the blood in their veins to run cold. Sure enough, a slab of cement hurtled by, smashing into a nearby transformer. Sparks flew from the box, and the entire substation whirred from the impact. A roar cut through the air as the rhythmic stomping drew closer. The sound bounced off the walls of the buildings, distorting the location of their origin. The survivors glanced around in all directions, grips tightening on their firearms while they tensed their muscles in preparation.

A Tank rounded the corner swiftly, crimson-eyed and tongue dangling. The leviathan swung at a nearby telephone pole that was in the way, splintering the wood with ease. The beam collapsed, bringing another spectacle of sparks onto the grassy area. Flames burst forth from the ground like magic, basking the oncoming Tank in their light. The glow caused the Infected's beady eyes to give off the illusion of flashing, making the giant seem even more formidable.

Simultaneously, the four survivors began filling the monstrosity with lead while scattering in different directions. Like a bull, the Tank's gaze focused on Zoey's bright jacket, much to the brunette's dismay. With a snort, the massive Infected bounded after her, forcing the youthful survivor to break into a full sprint to stay ahead. Moving back into the alleyway, Zoey began blindly shooting behind her, redirecting most of her energy on outrunning the monster behind her.

_It's going to catch me, it's going to catch me, it's going to catch me!_

A meaty fist slammed into a dumpster, sending the metal box flying through the air. Zoey glanced behind just in time to duck as the container tore across the wall less than a foot above her. The impromptu missile ricocheted off of the building and crashed into the center of the alley before coming to a stop. The young woman jumped back to her feet and vaulted over the fallen dumpster. A roar from behind her signaled that the Tank had once again resumed its chase. Shots opened fire from the alley's entrance as the other survivors put bullet after bullet into the Infected's colossal back.

Zoey frantically rounded the corner barely even a second before the dumpster was once again sent soaring, plowing through the brick wall behind her. Terrified heartbeats thundered in her ears, drowning out all noise but the maddening roars of her pursuer. The survivor risked a glance over her shoulder, witnessing the Tank as it turned the corner sharply, its shoulder tearing off a sizable piece of the building. Adrenaline and panic flooded her system, pushing her legs to move faster.

_Can't outrun it…need to lose it…_

Blue eyes hastily swept over the construction site, searching for something – _anything_ – that would slow the giant down. A multi-tiered piece of scaffolding caught Zoey's attention, and the survivor immediately veered toward it. The Tank's growls rose in volume, the heavy vibrations coursing through the thin earth below its feet. The Infected was close enough that Zoey could practically _feel_ the warm air whenever a snort would escape its nostrils. The unsettling possibility only pushed the brunette on faster, the scaffolding rapidly closing in.

The heavy pounding ceased for an instant, and Zoey felt a large rush of wind wash over her back. She swore she felt her heart stop beating as a chubby finger just barely brushed against her backpack. The Tank had actually swiped at her…and had just barely missed. Time resumed, and once again her heart was thundering in her chest. From behind, the leviathan roared in agitation as its prey narrowly escaped, and promptly resumed the chase, bearing down on the small survivor with even more aggression than before.

_There!_

Zoey all but threw herself into the network of metal beams that supported the structure. Auburn hair whipped around madly as the survivor spun on her heel while leaning backwards, looping through a couple of diagonal poles as the Tank came crashing in. The scaffold jerked at the vacancy of most of its support, the top crumbling from within. The behemoth swung wildly at Zoey as it drew near, tearing through the maze of beams with ease. Zoey, meanwhile, was having a difficult time in working though the web of metal _while_ avoiding the Tank's meaty fists. The massive Infected swiped again, all but ripping away the scaffold's centre. Zoey flinched as a small piece of shrapnel whipped past her face, leaving a shallow cut above her eyebrow in its wake.

The youthful survivor would have shouted in joy when the scaffolding collapsed completely…had she still not been inside. Throwing her body backwards, Zoey plowed through the outside of the structure and into a familiar back alley just as the debris began raining down. Landing harshly on her back, the brunette pushed herself backward until she was up against a wall. Dust and smoke kicked up, but Zoey raised her scoped rifle nevertheless, emptying her entire magazine into the cloud. Panted gasps left her lungs as her heart attempted to slow itself down and recover from the physical endeavor. She felt her muscles begin to relax, her senses failing to notice any movement from within the cloud of dust.

The obscure screen slowly dissipated, and Zoey's blue eyes dilated in horror at the sight. The massive form of the Tank was visible, several metal beams protruding from its back and shoulders. Blood ran in numerous rivulets down its chest and arms, a small pool of blood already soaking into the loose dirt. Various bloody holes dotted its sternum and neck, courtesy of the blind shooting she had just unleashed. Despite all the damage, the Tank was _still_ standing, glowering at the sitting survivor with ungodly rage.

"No…"

The word clung to her voiceless whisper, fear gripping every cell of her being. Zoey felt the shadow of death stretch over her; no time to reload, no time to jump up and run…she was dead. She was really going to die in some alley in the middle of a zombie-infested city. This was starting to sound _way_ too much like a horror movie. Zoey would have laughed at the irony of it all, but no sound would reach her throat. The Tank let loose an unearthly roar and smashed its fists into the ground, albeit somewhat sluggishly. Charging, the behemoth bounded toward her, blood spurting from its various wounds. Zoey's eyes slammed shut as her fate drew closer, her thoughts resting on the family that she would soon be joining.

_I'm sorry, dad…looks like I couldn't get my act together after all…_

A deafening repetition of machine gun fire shook Zoey from the recesses of her mind, causing the brunette to glance out the corner of her eye. The Tank stood only a few feet from her, its stature uncharacteristically stiff. It remained that way for a moment before gravity set in, and the giant slumped over, dead. At this point, Zoey was sure she looked like a fish out of water, her mouth opening and closing, but no sound escaping.

A _click_ was heard from somewhere beyond the Tank's corpse, and Louis emerged shortly after, replacing the magazine in his Uzi. The businessman hurried over to his companion, worry evident in his eyes.

"You okay, Zo?" Louis queried gently while kneeling before her, his gaze focusing on the cut above her eye.

Zoey shook herself from her stupor, nodding her head quickly at the bald man as he helped her to her feet.

"You sure?"

Zoey nodded again, finally finding her voice. "Yeah, I'm fine; this cut's nothing."

Louis exhaled in relief, despite the girl's shaken expression, before smirking in satisfaction. "So that's my kill, right?"

The brunette smiled in bewilderment. "Take it; you saved my ass after all."

The dark-skinned man pumped his fist in the air. "Hell yeah, Louis in the lead, now!"

Zoey merely shook her head in amusement while trading out magazines for her rifle as Louis started some light trash talking.

"That's right! What can I say though? I mean, I am a bad man after all…probably the baddest man left on the planet!"

A screech tore through the air as a hooded blur sped toward the unsuspecting Louis like a bullet. Zoey lifted her rifle on instinct and pulled the trigger. The Hunter whipped back in midair, its head exploding in a shower of gore. Louis brought his hands up over his head when the gunshot sounded, self-preservation momentarily driving his actions. Peaking between his fingers, the businessman discovered he was no longer in danger and let his hands drop sheepishly to his sides.

"_My_ kill," Zoey informed with mock cheeriness.

Louis pouted. "…Right."

"Ten points behind…tough luck."

"Yeah, yeah, shut it."

Zoey grinned, it was amazing…it truly was. Not even a minute ago she had been near-death, and almost instantly, it was as if nothing had happened. That was Louis' most valued trait in their group. It wasn't his brains or his ability to keep the peace…it was his talent for keeping them in the positive light, no matter what the situation. She had to admit, she had originally thought his optimism was a little too forced, but she could safely say that she took back all of those thoughts.

The brunette was suddenly driven from those very thoughts. "Hey…where are Bill and Francis?"

"Over here!" Francis called while waving from the other end of the construction site. "Sorry 'bout that! Had to save Bill from a Smoker!"

"Other way around, Francis."

"What? I had to save a Smoker from you?"

"No, you jackass, _I_ had to save _you_ from the Smoker!"

"…You must be getting senile, Bill. I _clearly_ saved you when I took that tongue for ya."

"Uh huh, _sure_ you did."

Louis smirked and shook his head as the pair continued their banter. Glancing at Zoey, the businessman grinned. "Shall we continue?"

The younger survivor smirked and strolled past him. "So I can kick your ass even more?"

Louis chuckled and followed after her. "You know that the Hunter was just pure luck."

"Uh huh, and luck sure saved your ass, didn't it?"

"You just beat me to the punch, that's all."

"Really now?"

"Oh yeah, had you just left him alone, I would have taken him out with my bear hands. My _bear hands_!"

"Louis…"

"What?"

"Just…just stop while you're ahead."

**To Be Continued…**

**

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**

Stay tuned for a preview of my next project, **Red Tide****…**

Red Tide

_Day 1: The progenitor of the Green Flu checks into Mercy Hospital…_

"What are we going to do now?" Louis murmured, more too himself than anything, as he stared at the battered corpse of Bill Overbeck.

Zoey's eyes remained hollow as they took in every detail of their fallen comrade. He looked so…_fragile_, nothing like the unstoppable Green Beret they had known.

"What _can_ we do?"

Francis was silent as he moved to the hunched over body, whispering something that the cadaver could not hear before removing Bill's dog tags. Stepping up to them, he placed a tag in their hands, his eyes hardened by grief.

"We'll do what we do best: Survive."

_Day 15: Fairfield is completely eradicated by Green…_

A scream ripped from Zoey's throat as she collapsed to her knees. Louis was vaguely aware that his Uzi had slipped from his hand, clattering uselessly onto the soft ground. The businessman felt his own throat tighten as he took in the sight that lay before them.

The sailboat, their means of a permanent escape…was utterly trashed.

Francis let out a primal snarl as he kicked at the dirt, curses flying from his mouth in a fury. Louis swallowed dryly, slowly shaking his head in disbelief.

"This…this can't be happening…"

"Well," Francis growled out while glaring at the half-sunken vessel. "Guess what, it is."

"What did he die for? What the hell DID HE DIE FOR?"

Silence was all that answered Zoey's anguished cry.

_Day 23: CEDA's 'Gulf of Mexico Evacuation' and 'Atlantic Evacuation' plans end in disaster, spreading the Green Flu to the Caribbean and Bahamas._

Francis' body flew through the doorway like a rag doll, his back colliding roughly against the wooden floor. The biker groggily rose to his feet, sputtering as his hand clenched at his battered midsection. Through the now open doorway, the massive silhouette of the Tank charged through the flood waters and torrential rain. With a sneer, Francis left the empty shotgun on the floor, half-limping, half-running back into the front room. His legs felt like jelly, and he could see the edges of his vision darken.

'Hold it together, damn it. Hold it together!'

Francis threw himself in front of his companions, sluggishly drawing the magnum at his hip. His arms felt like lead weights, the task of simply lifting the large pistol proving to be taxing. Every breath brought fire to his chest, the pain flaring bright enough to cause the large survivor to fall to a knee. His vision flickered briefly before regaining a blurred focus on his surroundings. The wall around the doorway ruptured as the Tank plowed through it, sending debris flying in every direction. Francis turned his head, shying his eyes away from the oncoming glass and splinters. Brown eyes lingered for a moment on the two bodies behind him.

Zoey was sprawled across the couch, drenched to the bone and shivering violently. Her face was flushed with oncoming fever, the redness accentuating the blue that tinged her lips. Louis was in a similar state: slumped on the chair, shivering, and breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

He had failed them…he had failed Bill…

Francis turned back to blearily gaze into the eyes of their destroyer, which stood unmoving in the hole that it had created, its milky red eyes almost glowing against the flashes of lightning that streaked the sky. The biker raised his magnum, aiming at the colossus before him despite his rapidly fading vision. The Tank merely roared in response, smashing both of its fists into the floor, cracking the boards underneath.

"Come on, finish it."

The Tank glowered at him for a moment longer, as if sizing up its prey.

"Finish it!"

Francis squeezed his finger, his arm whipping back from the recoil of the deadly firearm.

"FINISH IT!"

The shell lodged itself in the Tank's shoulder, much to the Infected's ire. Francis felt the pistol slip from his hand as unconsciousness claimed him. The last thing the survivor saw was the massive frame of the Tank charging toward him, its arm pulled back.

_Day 28: The countries of the United Nations unanimously vote to blockade North America and the Caribbean Sea to stop Green's spread. The US is left alone to be decimated by the virus infestation._

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**A/N: Good...(checks time) morning, readers! I must admit, this chapter came out better than I expected...it must be because Halloween's getting closer. Anywho, I always saw Louis and Zoey as having a sibling relationship, given how they seem to act toward one another in-game. I know I may get some heat from hardcore Zoey/Louis fanatics...but I frankly don't care. I'm pleased with how the chase scene turned out, as normally my ability to write action-oriented scenes is relative to that of a coin: it's either going to suck major or come out decent to good. Two chapters remain for this project, afterwards I may take a small break before tackling the monster that you see above. For those who may have been disappointed that I ended up striking the second part to The River Styx, relax; much of the content from that piece will be introduced at the beginning of the story. Moving on though, it's late/early and I'm going to go crash.**

**Up Next: Francis and Bill (Oh yes, there will be sarcasm.)**

**As always, reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated.**

**- C.C.**


	5. Seeing Island to Island

**Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, Valve does. **

**Author's Note: I will be shifting the Primary/Secondary Characters to whichever two survivors the current chapter is focused on.**

**Author's Note #2: I skipped Blood Harvest in terms of settings. 'Why?' you ask? I loved the setting of the campaign, by far my favorite since it just reminds by so much of the typical 'let's hide in the farmhouse in the middle of nowhere' that seems oh so common in apocalypse movies. However, The Sacrifice provides me with an easier build-up for these final two chapters.**

* * *

Ties that Bind

By: Confused Confusion

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* * *

Seeing Island to Island

**Character Focus: Bill and Francis**

* * *

"I gotta say it, Bill. I **really** hate this whole 'island plan' you've got laid out for us!" Francis shouted while ducking, narrowly avoiding a Hunter as it flew by overhead. The hooded Infected landed in a crouch, spinning around just as the butt of a shotgun slammed into its face. Francis grinned with satisfaction while flipping his firearm around, watching as the Hunter stumbled back in a daze. A gunshot later and the Infected's now-headless body dropped onto the concrete.

"Does it look like I care?" Bill snapped back while mowing down three Infected who came sprinting up the dock.

A hiss from behind the train caused the veteran to turn quickly, eyeing the Spitter as it bounded around the locomotive. The pregnant Infected stopped dead as Bill came into focus, a shrill screech emitting from its elongated throat. A bulge built at the base of its neck, the steady stream of glowing saliva from its mouth momentarily ceasing. Bill sent a burst of lead drilling into the lump as it ascended the Spitter's throat. The Infected's neck was all but ripped apart as the volatile substance erupted through the opening. The creature staggered back before falling to the ground, flopping around like a fish out of water. The Infected continued to twitch for a handful of seconds, the glowing substance flowing profusely from the torn throat, hissing and bubbling as it came into contact with the pavement.

"I dunno, come here so I can see your face!" Francis called with a laugh. His mirth twisted into predatory glee as a Boomer exploded from the bushes, the bloated Infected already inhaling. A gloved hand found its way around the chunky neck, squeezing tightly to prevent the disgusting bile from spilling forth. With a mad grin the biker hauled the struggling Boomer to the pier, and with a hard shove, sent the round Infected tumbling into the water. The plump creature thrashed about in the water futilely, angered groans and burps emitting from amongst the splashing.

Francis stared in wonderment at the struggling Boomer from the edge of the dock. "Huh, well what do ya know? Hey, Louis!"

The business glanced over his shoulder, unconsciously reloading his Uzi. "What?"

"Looks like I owe you a beer!"

"Why?" Louis shouted back with a frown.

Francis stepped to the side for the dark-skinned survivor to see, jerking his thumb at the Boomer. "You were right, looks like they actually float!"

Louis stared at the bloated Infected as it jerked around, gradually floating out into the bay area. The businessman's face broke into a victorious grin. "See, I told you!"

The biker shook his head good-naturedly and turned to face Bill's general direction. "I say we just stay here and kick zombie-ass!"

Bill ducked, using the oncoming Infected's momentum to flip the former human onto its back. Without even looking, the veteran lodged a bullet into its skull, his eyes focused on the larger survivor. "We're going to an island, and that's final."

"Bullshit!" Francis barked, a deep scowl imprinted on his features as he leveled another Infected with his magnum. "That plan sucks, there's _nothing_ on those islands!"

The spry old man slowly made his way toward the biker, cutting down any Infected that hindered him. "Precisely!"

"I'm still in favor of kicking zombie-ass!"

"Island!"

"Kicking zombie-ass!"

"Island!"

"Kicking. **Zombie. Ass**!"

"**Island**!"

"**Charger!**"

The two bickering companions were practically nose-to-nose when Louis' warning cut them off. Still glaring at each other, the two took large steps back, unflinching as the speeding Infected shot by. The Charger slammed into a brick wall and pulled back with a stumble, obviously dazed from the impact. The two survivors held their gazes, both lifting their respective firearms and dropping the bulky Infected where it stood without even looking.

"Alright, fine!" Francis growled after a minute. "Island it is, but if we run out of food…I'm throwing your ass on a fire and having a 'Bill Barbeque!'"

Bill released a feral smirk, "I'll risk it, sonny."

* * *

"Unbelievable."

Louis glanced at Francis from his seat on the floor of the supervisor's office. "What's up?"

The biker ran a hand over his shaven head. "I know we've holed up in some pretty weird places before…but a _brick factory_? _Seriously_?"

"Think of it this way, least we're not camping out in the open." The businessman concluded his logic with a shrug before rummaging through his pack. "Speaking of which, what was the watch order again?"

Francis plucked a box of shotgun shells from his own bag, his answer automatic and mechanical. "Bill, me, you, and then Zo."

As the brunette's name left his lips, the large survivor glanced at said young woman, who was _forcefully_ pulling various items from her bag. A scowl was etched on her youthful features, blue eyes darkened considerably from inner rage.

"Zo."

The youngest of their group either didn't hear Francis, or was choosing to ignore him…it better have been the former.

"Hey!"

Zoey finally glanced up, acknowledging the biker with an irate glare.

Francis lifted an eyebrow, not the least bit fazed by her attempt at intimidating him. The brunette held the gaze only for a breath longer, the fierce expression giving way as her eyes softened.

"Yeah, Francis?"

"…The _hell_ is up with you?"

"It's nothing," the young woman muttered while shifting her attention back to her pack.

"You still mad at Bill?"

Zoey huffed. "Maybe."

Francis snorted while reloading his shotgun. "Yeah, well…get over it."

The young woman shot to her feet, the glare returning to her face. "How can you say that? How can you seriously be comfortable with the fact that we're running away when we could still save lives?"

The biker groaned and turned to Louis. "I do _not_ have the patience for this right now. You wanna take a crack at it?"

The businessman brought his hands up defensively. "No way, man…you're the one who started this."

"Wuss." Francis muttered under his breath, concealing it with an exasperated sigh.

Zoey continued her rant, undeterred by the men's brief interaction. "Why are you defending him anyway? You hate the plan just as much as I do."

The biker eyed her and brought his free hand up, extending two fingers. "One, I'm not defending him. I'm telling you to get your shit together and let it go."

He dropped his middle finger. "And two…when have I _ever_ been fully in favor of a plan that doesn't let me kill a bunch of shit?"

Zoey opened her mouth to protest as Francis went back to finishing the task of restocking his ammunition, but quietly shut it upon realizing that he was right on both accounts…_unfortunately_. The youthful survivor leaned against the wall in defeat.

"I just don't understand why…we can still fight, we can still _help_…"

Francis frowned at Zoey's small and distant voice, images of Riverside flashing through his mind.

"Then just ask Bill."

The biker's matter-of-fact tone earned him another glare from the brunette. "I _have_, Francis."

The tattooed survivor leveled her with a challenging stare. "Have you _really_ asked him…or have you just been _complaining_ to him?"

Zoey appeared flabbergasted, but quickly covered it up by huffing and stomping over to her sleeping bag.

Louis attempted to salvage the situation. "Francis."

The biker glanced at the dark-skinned man, who was pointing at a cracked clock on the wall. "That time already, eh?"

With a grunt, Francis returned his magnum to its holster on his thigh and retrieved his fully loaded shotgun.

"Nice job in pissing her off," Louis commented as Francis trudged past. His tone wasn't mean or mocking, just plain…a simple statement.

The larger of the two shrugged. "Maybe it's that time of the month…"

An empty steel can promptly found its way to the side of Francis' head from the other side of the room, earning a few chuckles from the businessman.

Despite the dull pain in his skull now, Francis couldn't help but smirk. "Nah…she's just fine."

* * *

Bill sat on the edge of the tall loading dock, his legs dangling over the edge in an idle fashion. The former Green Beret was ever alert, his M16 never out of reach, but he still found himself enjoying a nice cigarette in the peaceful evening. It was almost worth it…the hell they had to endure day in and day out for the rare, tranquil moments like these. Looking out into the shipping yard, one would never guess that the world was on the verge of collapsing. The only factor that offset the scene before him was that the air was _too_ still. It was as if they were sitting in the eye of a hurricane. They had seen Hell…but they knew that this was only the beginning of what was to come.

Despite being so wrapped up in his thoughts, Bill easily distinguished Francis' presence as heavy footsteps approached him.

The veteran frowned, his moment of peace trampled upon by his large companion. "You're early."

The biker blinked at the terse and dry observation, slightly taken aback by Bill's sudden snippish attitude.

"That's not what the clock says."

"I'm impressed you can tell time."

Coffee-brown eyes narrowed into thin slits, their owner lashing back with equal aggression. "What the _hell_ crawled up your ass and died?"

Bill shifted his cigarette to one side, sliding a winkled hand over his face while sighing.

"Sorry," came the mumbled apology. "This horseshit's just getting on my nerves."

Francis was silent for a moment, remaining a few paces from his companion's seated form. "…You mad 'cause you didn't get any peanut butter?"

The elder survivor eyed Francis momentarily before chuckling. "Yes…that's _exactly_ why I'm mad."

"Figures," the biker smirked before sitting down beside him, eyeing the former Green Beret's source of nicotine.

Francis cleared his throat. "I know how protective you can get with those damn things…but do you have one you can spare, by chance?"

A gray eyebrow rose in amusement, Bill's hands reaching up to dig through his shirt pocket. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

The tattooed survivor ignored the tone of playful ridicule in the older man's voice, instead choosing to focus on procuring a cigarette from the carton before the old goat changed his mind.

"Thanks."

Bill watched as Francis placed the cigarette between his lips, letting the white stick sit there, unlit.

"I'm not lighting it for you…"

"I know." The sardonic reply came, a tone that Francis had grown so accustomed to using when Bill was bitching at him.

"I mean it, Francis. I know you have your own damn lighter…"

"I _know_, Bill." Francis snapped back, his disinterested manner torn away by a feral growl.

A tense silence lapsed over the two, the only real sound being the chorus of crickets outside. The pair of survivors sat like that for a few minutes, neither moving as they took in the cloud-cast sky.

Francis cleared his throat, "So…I see that you and Zoey are still fighting."

Bill snorted, "When is she _not_ yelling at me about something?"

It was the biker's turn to snort. "True…in her defense though, you _are_ being a little black and white about all of this."

"She's just too young to understand."

Francis shook his head in disagreement. "It's not that she's too young…"

"She's too emotional."

Francis chuckled. "She's a woman, Bill. They tend to think with their emotions."

Bill let out a low, impressed whistle.

The larger survivor raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Didn't know you were capable of such an intellectual thought."

"Har, har, asshole," Francis muttered while shooting the elderly man – whose shoulders were shaking with laughter – a glare. "I've had…_experience_, if you wanna call it that, with the matter."

At the veteran's curious glance, Francis shook his head. "You don't wanna know."

The duo shared a quiet laugh, and for a brief moment, things were simple again. All the stress and tension that had been building for nearly a month evaporated, their dire situation: a distant memory. Like all things, though, the carefree instant came to an end, basking the survivors in a somber silence.

"In all honesty, running off to an island to wait out the storm…it was the last thing I wanted to do." Bull murmured, suddenly feeling the weight of his age.

"Oh?" Francis hummed in mild interest, the unlit cigarette in his mouth shifting with the gesture.

"I thought like Zoey at one point…I wanted to stay behind and save as many as I could. It's impossible though, simply impossible; just the sheer way that this thing in spreading…what it's capable of _producing_…there's no way to save everyone."

"_I_ could've told you that."

Bill ignored the biker's comment, his head suddenly perking up as a thought struck him. "Francis, why _are_ you against the island plan anyway?"

"I hate islands." The tattooed survivor responded with a shrug. Francis sighed at Bill's unconvinced stare. "They're too constricting."

"Constricting?" The veteran echoed with a frown.

Francis nodded. "You're constantly surrounded by water with absolutely no escape. It reminds me too much of living in the middle of a city."

"It feels too much like being surrounded by authority…" Bill mumbled, catching onto the biker's train of thought.

"Exactly, except instead of the cops' authority, its nature's. That's why I love the open road so much…there's always somewhere to go, something new to see…_without_ having to worry about authority."

"Understandable." Bill consented with a nod.

"What about you? Why are you suddenly so bent on running away to an island?"

The aging survivor sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Contrary to what Zoey may think, we're all alone now. The Infected are trying to kill us, the military's trying to kill us, and even if we _do_ encounter any other survivors, we'll just end up infecting them and _then_ they'll try to kill us."

Francis frowned. "So it's either go to the island or stay here and die."

"I don't like it myself, but we're saving lives by isolating ourselves."

The biker raised an eyebrow. "What happened to the 'We look after our own' talk?"

"Two birds, one stone."

Francis shrugged and the two once again fell into silence, which was broken by Bill's abrupt sigh.

"God, I'm old."

"I _really_ could've told you that," Francis snickered.

"I mean it, Francis," Bill snapped before sighing. "I really do hope that this is the home stretch…dunno how much more of this I can take."

The tattooed survivor glanced over at his companion. "What are you? Ninety? A hundred? …Two hundred?"

Bill was prompt in shooting a glare his way.

Francis merely rolled his eyes and reached into a vest pocket, dispensing a chrome lighter. Once the cigarette was lit, he took a hefty drag. "Chill out, you're talking like you're dying or something."

"Aren't we all?"

"Not while I'm here."

Bill felt himself smirk at Francis' counter; the sheer sense of vindication that emitted from the large man brought a touch of pride to the veteran. Heaving himself to his feet, Bill leaned against the wall and flexed his leg, allowing blood to flow through his bum knee. The veteran nearly groaned in satisfaction as feeling returned to the limb. Clapping Francis on the back, he chuckled while trudging back to their room.

"You're right, not sure why I was so worried there for a second."

"…I'm not an idiot, Bill."

The elderly man stopped and glanced over his shoulder at the biker's sitting form.

Francis cocked his head, meeting the veteran's eye. "You have my word."

The unspoken promise lifted a great weight from Bill's shoulders, and the elder survivor felt his body relax for the first time in a long time. Nodding, he gave his beard a scratch while hobbling to their room. Bill frowned when he caught sight of Zoey's sleeping bag thrashing lightly about. With a paternal sigh, the old man moved into the room like a man on a mission, but not before addressing the biker one last time.

"…I'm glad…glad that we're actually able to see eye-to-eye on something."

Francis remained unresponsive, waiting until their leader was out of earshot before gazing back up at the sky. The clouds had parted slightly, revealing a small cluster of stars and a crescent moon. Staring at the sight, the biker took a drag on his cigarette before muttering.

"…I just hope that it's not the last time we do…"

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**A/N: This was a little later in its release than I had originally intended. The first date was going to be around Halloween, but I was recruited into crazy, drunken shenanigans (I started the night off as Shaggy from 'Scooby Doo' and ended it as Wesker from 'Resident Evil,' my poor little goatee) involving…well, everything that revolves around the holiday, followed by going to see 'Saw 3D' (a decent closer…now they just need to leave the franchise alone for good and not try to resurrect it).**

**In regards to the chapter, the Francis/Bill bonding didn't really feel as deep as I wanted it to be, but at the same time, that's probably as close as I could get it without it becoming too sappy. For any confusion toward the title: "Seeing Eye-land to Eye-land." I had fun with this chapter, and I personally like how well most of it came out in terms of quality.**

**Up Next: Zoey – Bill (The final installment. Can I really complete a project on FanFiction? The mission is on!)**

**As always, reviews and feedback are appreciated.**

**- C.C.**


	6. Eternal Guardian

**Disclaimer: I do not own Left 4 Dead, Valve does. **

**Author's Note: I will be shifting the Primary/Secondary Characters to whichever two survivors the current chapter is focused on.**

**Author's Note #2: Zoey's background for this project was created before the comic was released…and I wasn't about to rewrite a good chunk of a chapter because of a few minor details. However, just for the laughs, her background in this chapter runs with the official storyline.**

* * *

Ties that Bind

By: Confused Confusion

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Eternal Guardian

**Character Focus: Zoey and Bill**

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Bill was the leader, plain and simple. There had been no voting, no suggesting, no challenge…what room existed for such ceremonial formalities? What time did they have to waste on such decisions? When he found them – one by one – they were drawn to him like moths clinging to the final shred of light in existence. In a dire and hopeless situation he emerged without fear, his mind conditioned to excel in such situations…well, maybe not _this_ kind of situation per say. As such, they followed him with minimum complaints, most of them belonging to a certain obnoxious biker. What choice did they really have? Stay and die or follow the crazy old guy?

After recovering from the anesthesia, Bill's main priority had been to get out of Fairfield as fast as he could. From a first glance, it seemed the city and its citizens were already doomed, left to suffer in their fates. That was when he came across Francis, pinned down by an Infected outside a bar. The biker had been struggling with a former friend on top of him, shouting profanities and threats at the Infected despite his situation. Numerous bodies littered the street and around the building, testaments to the struggle that had taken place. A handful of remaining Infected were drawn to the biker's shouts, the pack rapidly closing in on the defenseless man.

Bill's logic had told him to leave the obnoxious man to his fate, pointing out that the man's behavior would hinder his escape. His heart; however, argued that his oath to protect his fellow countrymen wouldn't allow him to leave the insufferable biker to die. Emotion ultimately won out, and Bill rescued Francis from his fate, only to receive a 'Who the hell are you?' from the larger man as a thanks. Regardless, Francis tagged long with the veteran, toting a worn pump shotgun and a maniacal grin to preserve what little may have remained of his sanity. They had a peculiar relationship, never agreeing with each other…but never quite disagreeing either. It was as if Francis would constantly disagree with Bill just to piss the veteran off, only to comply with any requests after having his laugh. A rumor brought them to the university, a whisper of an evacuation point, or at the very least, a radio.

That was when they came across Zoey. The young woman, after witnessing the destruction of her family, had raced to the only place she had left in the collapsing city: her dorm. The lack of aide sent Bill and his new acquaintance to scavenge the buildings for any possible supplies. The resident halls were a key target, due to several of the students keeping mini fridges in the rooms. The duo quickly found that the plan backfired, as most of the students kept nothing but junk food within the compartments. Bill didn't know what the hell 'Monster' was, but after reading the can's contents, he had put the infernal thing back with a grimace.

They had just been about to give up when an Infected had sent Francis crashing into Zoey's dorm room. The scuffle ended quickly, and the former human joined another corpse – most likely her roommate – on the room's floor. Zoey had been standing in the bathroom's doorway, looking wary and frightened of the two visitors. Again, Bill's mind had heavily urged him to abandon the girl, but his heart once again won out. He had done his best to ease the young woman's suspicions and fears of them, despite Francis growling out to leave her, arguing that she wouldn't make it downtown. Bill had acknowledged the biker's words, but gave Zoey the option of staying or leaving with them. Like a lost child in a store, she clung to him – the Good Samaritan – hoping that he would fight away the horrors that threatened to consume them all. Francis was open with his disdain, but for whatever reason – perhaps by some odd code of honor – protected Zoey far beyond what Bill would have given him credit for. Time in their presence, witnessing their small squabbles and banter, had set the young woman at ease, and she soon began to open up from the terror-stricken survivor to the sarcastic teenager they had come to know.

Louis had been found huddled underneath a stairwell. A fenced barricade had forced the trio to cut through a chain of buildings to traverse to the other side of the block. The businessman had burst from his hiding place, his frantic cries shouting out a single syllable in the echoing stairwell before Bill had pinned him against the wall, a wrinkled hand firmly clamped over his mouth. Bill had long since given up listening to his brain, but swore that this would be the final one. His experiences had taught him that for any form of stealth operation, a four-man cell was the maximum. So after an exchange of words – mainly Bill's threats and Louis' fearful nods – the veteran had allowed the businessman to tag along.

He had chanced upon them…all of them. His traveling through numerous back alleys and side streets had led him to Francis. Had the biker not been tackled into Zoey's dorm room, they would have never found her. If there hadn't of been a blockade, Louis would have most likely have been found by the Infected, not by a group of survivors. It was as if fate or some greater power had willed them to come together…like they were meant for this. Fate or not, they were under his care now, and he _would_ make sure they stayed safe, come hell or high water.

* * *

Bill dropped himself onto a simple folding chair a few feet from Zoey's knapsack. Louis had turned in for the night…or at least until Francis would come to wake him with a boot on his head. The businessman's sleeping bag was near the doorway, but positioned on the far side of the desk, allowing him some resistance to Francis' thunderous snores for when he returned. Although Bill couldn't spot Louis from his position, the relative silence coming from his corner of the room indicated the dark-skinned man's sound sleep. Zoey – however – was anywhere _but_ a sound sleep. The brunette tossed and turned within her bedding, small whimpers escaping her lips while beads of sweat dotted her forehead.

The first instinct that came to the veteran was to wake the fitful youth from her nightmare as soon as he could, but a small voice in the back of his mind told him otherwise. It was no secret that – surprisingly – all three of his companions had a habit of talking in their sleep. It was how he learned that Louis was addicted to something called 'Jimmy John's' and that Francis had a peculiar fear of Santa Claus. Zoey's sleep-talking usually centered on her parents, whose fates she had shared with them some time ago, ranging from regret to anger, and happiness to sorrow.

It was a cruel thing to do – Bill's heart reminded him – to leave someone trapped within a nightmare. A sense of fatherly protection swelled within him, causing his hand to absentmindedly reach out toward Zoey's shoulder. The brunette's faced creased with something akin to horror before sobbing out one word:

"No…"

Bill's hand froze mid-movement, aged blue eyes widening briefly in surprise. His mouth suddenly felt dry, forcing him to swallow the lump in his throat. "Zoey?"

The youthful survivor tossed her head side to side, her bangs plastered across her pale face. "Guys…don't…"

Bill gave her a gentle shake, trying to rouse her from whatever it was that plagued her mind.

"No…please…" Zoey hand escaped the confines on her sleeping bag, weakly reaching out for some phantom thing. "Don't…die…"

Alarms blared within Bill's mind at the plea, his hand taking a firmer grip and a more forceful shake. "Zoey, wake up!"

The motion and hissed command brought Zoey from the depths of her nightmare, the young woman bolting upright in her bag. Bill's hand clamped over her mouth before the terrified scream could erupt from her throat. A muffled cry was all that was able to escape, a tense silence following it. The veteran breathed a small sigh of relief. The noise hadn't awoken Louis, and Francis wasn't charging through the warehouse to see what was wrong. Dilated ocean blue eyes frantically darted around in a mixture of fear and confusion, their owner's breaths coming out in rapid heaves.

"Look at me, Zo."

The brunette's attention snapped to him, as if just now noticing his presence. Her breathing slowed, her eyes showing familiarity as the young woman finally grasped her surroundings. Bill carefully removed his hands from Zoey's mouth, eyeing the youth with worry. The veteran leaned back in his chair, allowing the younger survivor to collect her thoughts for a moment.

"Nightmare?"

Zoey tucked a few strands of damp hair behind her ear, offering the elderly man a numb nod as she stared straight ahead.

"Bad?"

A haunted look graced Zoey's features before she merely nodded again. Bill's worry only grew at the uncharacteristic actions.

"Wanna talk about it?"

The brunette paused for a moment before shaking her head. "I'd rather not."

Bill snorted. "I hear it's good for you."

Another shake of her head. "You don't want to hear it."

The veteran heaved a sigh while running a hand over his face. "Listen, Zo, I know that you're mad at me…"

"No!" Zoey hissed, turning toward the former Green Beret as if she were about to cling to him. Catching herself, the young woman instead pulled her knees to her chest.

"I'm not angry with you."

"It's alright, kid, I can handle it…"

Zoey shook her head forcefully, turning to look Bill in the eye. "I know we have our squabbles and disagreements from time to time, but I'm never mad at you…this time's no different."

"Well…that's a relief." Bill sighed with a fatherly smile.

"…Are _you_ mad at _me_?"

The veteran blinked in surprise. "Of course not…hell, I hate myself for making such a cowardly choice."

Zoey once again shook her head. "It's not cowardly…well, it kind of is…but you're doing it for us."

A grey eyebrow rose. "What brings on this sudden change of opinion?"

The youth smiled. "I received a pep talk."

Bill nodded in understanding, a knowing smirk grazing his lips. "So…are we 'cool' now?"

Zoey giggled at Bill's awkward attempt at using the phrase 'cool.'

The former Green Beret frowned as the brunette continued to laugh at him. "What's so funny?"

The young woman cupped her mouth with her hand, fighting back the louder laughs that threatened to spill forth.

"Alright, it's not _that_ funny."

The laughter subsided as Zoey waved an apologetic hand at the veteran. "Sorry, Bill…but yeah, we're 'cool.'"

Bill's wrinkles creased even further as Zoey mimicked his own usage of the word, sending the young woman into another fit of laughter.

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

The spry old man's faux anger broke away, and Bill shook his head good-naturedly. The moment was a peaceful one, something that Bill always cherished, but felt his grin falter as he gazed into Zoey's eyes.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Zoey sighed. "It was just a nightmare, Bill. People have them all the time."

"You mentioned us though…"

The young woman's eyes grew wide, her head snapping toward the older man. "How much did I say?"

"Not much," Bill answered vaguely, his eyes boring into hers. "Come on, Zo, just tell me."

"Why?"

The former Green Beret shrugged. "That's what dads are supposed to do, right? Comfort their kids after a nightmare?"

Zoey blinked. "What…what did you just say?"

Bill's eyes widened as he caught his words. "Oh! Um…nothing?"

Zoey watched as Bill coughed into his fist while sheepishly scratching the back of his head. It was odd to see the hardened, serious soldier in such an embarrassed state, but the brunette found the scene strangely endearing.

Pink lips twitched upward. "It's okay."

Confusion swept over the humiliation on Bill's face. "What?"

Zoey offered him a sincere smile. "It's okay…I've actually seen you as a second father-figure to be honest."

The veteran's face broke into another smile. "…Thank you."

The youthful survivor nodded, her expression once more turning serious. "You really want to know about my dream?"

Bill's posture slumped ever so slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing his features at the young woman's somber tone. "If you're really willing to share…"

Zoey offered a nod of consent when the veteran trailed off, her brow furrowing as she delved into her memory. "Some of it's a little hazy…hell, most of it's hazy at this point."

The elderly man shrugged and leaned forward. "That's alright…just tell me what you do remember."

"I'm not sure where exactly we were…I think it was some kind of bridge? Or maybe a lighthouse? Ugh, it's all starting to run together."

Bill looked on intently, staring at his companion with unwavering attention. The scrutinizing gaze made Zoey suddenly feel somewhat uneasy. Tucking a few strands of loose hair behind her ear, she let out a soft laugh. "I can barely even remember it, Bill. I'm sure if we just leave it for a minute, I'll forget about the whole thing."

The group's leader shook his head resolutely. "I know it may seem like you'll just forget it like any other dream, but it won't…not entirely."

A questioning glance was all that answered him.

"Just…just trust me on this." Bill muttered after a moment with a sigh, a haunted look passing over his face for but a flicker of a second.

Zoey's eyes widened as she caught on to what he was saying. Bill was practically an expert with traumatizing dreams. Vietnam…the horror, the blood, the death, the carnage; they had all plagued the veteran at some point after the war, torturing him into PTSD. Bill wasn't speaking out of comfort…

…He was speaking out of experience.

"I thought I could carry on through it by myself, too," Bill murmured after a moment, recognizing the realization as it dawned on the young survivor's face. "But it just kept coming back, as if it were mocking me; reminding me of my sins…my weaknesses."

"What did you do?" Zoey croaked as he trailed off.

The grey beard twitched as the veteran flashed her a knowing smile. "I talked to someone about them…and they disappeared, one by one."

The brunette felt herself snort at Bill's seemingly effortless and simple suggestion. "How can I talk to you about it if I don't even remember all of it?"

Bill inclined his head at her. "You remember the 'important' part, don't you?"

Fear washed over Zoey like death's shadow, blue eyes unconsciously darting between Louis' corner and the barely-open door of the office where Francis' quiet griping about fireflies could be heard through the small gap. The young woman pressed her forehead against her knees, her body rigid.

"Zoey?"

The woman in question refused to acknowledge him.

"Zoey!" Bill hissed, giving the brunette a hard shake. Zoey's head snapped up, wild-eyed and torn between reality and hallucination. "Zoey, what happened?"

The former college student released a shaky laugh, a breath of hysteria clinging to the sound. "I know I should be used to the possibility by now. After all, it could happen to any one of us at any given time in this world."

Bill chose to remain silent as Zoey turned to him, tears brimming along the edges of her eyes. Despite all that the soldier had experienced in his lifetime, none of it quite prepared him for the true weight of Zoey's next words:

"…All of you died…"

The elderly man felt his mouth instantly dry. It was true that their fates constantly hung in the air around them. All it would take is a small error of judgment…one tiny stroke of bad luck, and they would be no more. Regardless, it was something of a taboo subject among them. Despite it being just _so_ apparent, they would always instead focus on making it through their current situation…all parties accounted for.

Bill was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed the rest of Zoey's recollection.

"And I was powerless to do anything…there were just so many of them. We were divided, picked off one by one. Francis had gone down in a blaze of glory…"

A sob wracked Zoey's small frame. "Louis had been screaming for help…"

The tears ran freely down her cheeks as the brunette looked up to gaze at Bill. "I can't…I can't remember your…_death_…but somehow I know it was the worst of them all…"

Zoey trailed off, another sob trying to work its way up her throat. She brought her hands up in an attempt to brush away the tears. A wrinkled hand caught hers, bringing the pale limb over to the veteran. The brunette blinked as Bill placed her palm against his chest without word. Through the cotton material of his yellow shirt, Zoey could feel the chain of the former Green Beret's dog tags. Shooting her fellow survivor a _very_ confused look, Zoey opened her mouth to question his actions…when she felt it.

_Tha-Thump. Tha-Thump. Tha-Thump. Tha-Thump._

"It may be ancient," Bill chuckled with a grin. "But this heart of mine's still beating."

"What…"

Bill continued, ignoring the perplexed look he was receiving. "And as long as it is, you don't have to worry about _any_ of us dying."

The veteran released Zoey's hand, still chuckling. "You have my _word_, Zo."

Zoey stared at her open hand where she could still _feel_ the phantom of Bill's pulse. The promise worked its magic, and a smile slowly split across her face. The two shared a grin before Zoey laid back down in her sleeping bag.

"Thanks, Bill."

The veteran nodded, a smile still on his lips. "No problem, kiddo."

Sleep quickly began to claim the young woman as her eyelids drooped lower and lower. "I don't have to worry after all."

Bill hummed in agreement, watching with a touch of paternal affection as Zoey struggled in vain to fight off sleep.

"Because you'll always be there for us."

The elderly man remained silent, waiting until the youth had drifted off into slumber before tilting his head back to gaze at the ceiling.

"Yeah…always…"

**

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-(,,,,,/-\-((o.O))-/-\,,,,,)-

**A/N: Done! (Pops confetti gun) At last, after seven and a half years of FanFiction, I have finally…finally…completed a project outside of a one-shot! I loved this project from start to finish, and although it may not have the most reviews in the world, you guys made it happen where it really counted in Alerts and Favorites (I understand…was never really much of a review guy myself). Now that I am closing the door on this…I may even do one on the L4D2 survivors, but who knows (I rather dislike their characters…although Nick is by far my favorite). Let me just dish out a BIG 'Thank You!' to those of you who have supported this project of mine throughout its creation:**

**Confu's Wall of Thanks**

**Patrick the PROTOTYPE**

**Zipper Whippersnapper (True to my word, I shall start on your request over Thanksgiving break once I'm done editing this sucker.)**

**Saharaheart12**

**Dance in the Moonlight**

**Badger**

**Imaginary Snow**

**Hahli nuva**

**Kynmarcher17**

**Moe Fox**

**MrAnonymas**

**mrawgirl09**

**Taora**

**Writer on the Run**

**Azrael3300**

**EagleFox**

**iXine**

**mrawgirl09**

**Shizuka Eien**

**TheNightmirage**** (Thanks again for the constructive review. How'd I do with Bill on this one?)**

**To anyone new who makes the list after this chapter is posted.**

**And to all the readers out there who helped push the total hits above 1,300 (More than I thought this would get.)**

**Enough of that though, time to move on to my comments for this chapter. It was a little on the short side for my tastes…but I decided not to add Bill's death scene (you guys already know what happens anywho). Regardless, I'm rather proud of how this chapter turned out overall. I wanted to capture the father/daughter relationship without it getting **_**too**_** mushy. I may have failed in that aspect…but whatever, I'm still happy with it! Bill's intro was a little vague (in relation to the other survivors' segments that I scattered throughout the chapters), but I didn't want to run the risk of paralleling or (Fang forbid) copying anything mentioned in ****The River Styx****. Still, I think it fits with the overall feel of the chapter.**

**As always, reviews and feedback are appreciated.**

**- C.C.**


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